"Spain…" the young Nation ventured, sounding unsure even to himself. But as the figure drew closer he could clearly recognize the features.
"Are you here to help me?" America called out, surprised.
The Spaniard gave an artificial smile, waving his weapon. "Algo por el estilo. I haven't seen you in so long, chiquito. You've grown."
"Yeah," America affirmed, eyes narrowing as he viewed the approaching troops. There was a discernible tenseness between himself and Spain, but he couldn't let that bother him now.
His troops were busy elsewhere, under Greene, pushing back other British forces. They were fairing well, very well, but help could always be used. No matter the motive.
"Ready?" the younger nation shifted his gun in preparation.
"Claro que sí," the older Nation confirmed, a grim sort of excitement tracing over his features. Vividly, America remembered the conquistadores. How they had come, and conquered empires.
A shudder ran down his spine.
"You bloody git!" England yelled, anger coursing through his veins. "You're helping him? That's below the belt, even for you, you bleeding frog."
"Any chance to cross swords with you, Angleterre," the older blond countered. America watched the exchange, with a mixture of trepidation and amusement. England's face had turned a rather brilliant crimson, edging on violet.
"And you, America," England's expression showed such hurt, the boy felt guilt well up inside him. "Resorting to help from such a scumbag. I don't believe you…either of you!"
Anger, so much anger, but no tears. It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that America could keep going. It enabled him to keep fighting with his troops, to stand the lives being lost consistently around him.
It would all be over soon. With France's help, the Revolution was moving in their favor. England tried all sorts of methods: sympathy from loyalists, dependence on military strength.
But it wasn't working. His heart wasn't in the effort, and it showed.
"It's over now," America stated months later. Or was it years? It felt like they had been fighting for so long…
"It's not over yet, you twit." England was breathing heavily, weapon locked in position. His eyes were narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, but his knees were shaking. It was only them now, the countries. England was all alone now, against France and America. Two against one. It was finished it was…
"Surrender, Angleterre," France purred, hefting his gun, an exhausted smirk on his face.
"I…" England began, fists clenching on the wood. He bit his lip viciously before continuing. "It would appear I have no choice."
And with those words, he fell to his knees, defeated.
America surprised both himself and the other two Nations by smiling. A true genuine smile, saturated with relief. It was over now, all the fighting. And he had won, he had triumphed!
He was his own country now, free from England and all his stupid rules, free from all restrictions, free to do as he pleased. His head spun, and his heart thudded rapidly in his chest with the new sensation of freedom.
The Revolution was over. America had been formed.
Historical Notes: General Henry Clinton replaced General Howe in 1778. Under him, Britain took a new approach to the war, deciding to target the South, where they could more easily access support from their Navy, and where there were a lot more Tory supporters. However, they were still not enough, and were weak allies, not contributing much at all to the war effort.
In 1779, the Spanish governor of Louisiana, José de Gálvez, attacked British forces, which, while not specifically done in order to help the Americans, did end up doing so to some degree. The replacement of Horatio Gates with the much more adequate General Nathanael Greene also helped along matters.
General Cornwallis, who had been left in charge by Clinton, eventually ended up retreating to Virginia, where he joined forces with American traitor Benedict Arnold (Arnold had fled after incriminating evidence of his scheme to later betray the Americans had been found on a British spy).
Clinton ordered Cornwallis to set up a base at Yorktown to await reinforcements by sea. However, the reinforcements did not arrive in time. In 1781, Washington, The Comte de Grasse, and the Comte de Rochambeau eventually cornered Cornwallis in Yorktown, through brilliant planning.
Cornwallis held out until October 17, and then asked for terms. Two days later, 7000 British soldiers, marched out of their lines and laid down their arms. The Revolution had more or less drawn to a close.
Translations:
Algo por el estilo - Something of the sort (I believe that's what it is ')
Claro que sí- Of course